But He Was Mean
by INeverExplainAnything
Summary: "But he was mean and he was coarse and unrefined!" Maria has been told that there are certain rooms that are not to be disturbed, but she never listens.


But He Was Mean

* * *

Shutting the nursery door after checking on the children, Maria headed towards her room but paused suddenly. Glancing around to check she was alone, she took a left, instead of her usual right, and headed towards the western wing of the house. At the end of the hall there was another long corridor that lead to the attic. She knew this because Brigitta had told her so when she had spotted her one rainy afternoon when she had come across the girl heading out of the corridor looking highly suspicious. The young von Trapp had confessed to Maria that their father had forbidden them to go anywhere near the attic, but they still snuck in sometimes – usually when he was in Vienna - as this was where all the belongings of the late Baroness von Trapp were kept. Though, they never dared take anything out, Brigitta had told her, as much as they wanted to. Maria had been furious that they weren't even allowed a single photo of their mother and once she had seen Brigitta walk out of sight, she had headed down the corridor and been about to open the door when the Captain had come rounding around the corner.

He had told her, in no uncertain terms, that it was out of bounds and not to be disturbed. And not wanting another argument, Maria had simply nodded and headed back the way she came.

But now, the children were all in bed and the Captain was busy downstairs with his guests. Surely, she would be able to have a quick look and possibly grab a few things for the children? After all, Maria had a tendency to live by the motto 'It's easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission.' Which had lead to her kissing the floor when she saw Sister Berthe coming just to save time. And was certainly true when it came to Captain von Trapp.

With her mind made up, she walked down the long corridor until she came to a door. Hesitating briefly, Maria pushed open on the heavy oak and walked up a small flight of stairs. There was just the sound of her shoes tapping against the flat stone until she reached a landing where another large door stood. Her mind overflowing with curiosity, she walked towards it as her hand stretched out to pull down on the large handle. She wasn't sure what she had expected exactly, but she had felt the door should have creaked ominously and that the room should have been filled with daintily draped cobwebs and possibly some gothic candles that dribbled over an old piano. But the door swung open easily, the room was clean – save for dust, and was free of any candles. Maria's shoulders slumped in disappointment; feeling slightly cheated at this lack of conventional narrative.

Letting her feet take her across the threshold, she walked into the room and coughed slightly in the stale air. The attic wasn't even that dark either, she noted with disappointment. There were several oval shaped windows that sat in gilded frames high on the walls, allowing the bright moon to shine through. The soft rays illuminated mountains of neatly stacked boxes and pieces of furniture all covered in dustsheets.

In the middle of the room, with the moonlight landing on it, was a dressmakers mannequin - the only thing not covered in a sheet. And on the mannequin was the most beautiful wedding dress Maria had ever seen. Granted, she hadn't seen many wedding dresses, but she just knew from looking at the elegant creation that it was like something out of a fairy tale. The sleeves, bodice and parts of the skirt were overlaid in thin lace; it looked so fine – like some magical spider had spun it. The moonbeams that cut through the room seemed to make the lace shimmer and as she crept closer, she could see tiny glittering beads that were worked through the dress. It was subtle, but it made the dress glow. On the head of the mannequin was a golden tiara with flowers made of the same magical lace. Also attached to the tiara was a veil that draped down and seemed to move ever so slightly – even in the still air of the attic. Reaching out a hand, Maria slowly brought it closer to touch the fabric.

"What are you doing in here?" came the silence shattering growl.

Spinning around, Maria found herself in front of an enraged Captain. She nearly tripped on a box in her effort to get away.

"I'm-" she paused to steady herself. "I'm sorry."

"I told you never to come here," he snapped. "I distinctly recall telling you that there were certain parts of this house that were not to be disturbed."

She felt icy panic creep into her veins. This was worse than the outrage he had shown the day her and the children had fallen into the lake. He looked utterly livid. He was slowly getting closer, the sound of his shoes tapping with deliberate precision on the hard floor.

"I didn't mean any harm," Maria said, trying to stay her ground.

"Do you realise what you could have done?" he demanded, his voice a deadly hiss.

"Captain," Maria said, "I didn't mean any harm. Please. I-I-" She took a gulping breath. "The children wanted something of their moth-"

"Get out," he said, in the same menacing tone.

"Please, I-"

"Get. Out."

"Captain, if you'll just listen," Maria tried, clasping her hands together.

She didn't want him to be upset with her, after all, it had seemed they had formed a truce of sorts – a friendship even. They been getting along so well, she had even begun to look forward to their daily talks. She thought he had _changed_. He was impossibly close, looming over her like some wrathful god. Taking a deep breath, Maria held her ground and made an effort to stand tall.

"No, please just listen to me," Maria said firmly, sticking out her chin. "You can't keep her memory locked up here like some dirty secret." She clenched her fists. "They're children and all they want is something of their mother's, why is that so bad?"

"I do not care to hear about this, you have no right-"

"You must!" Maria pleaded. "I understand it must be hard for you, losing your wife, but they lost their mother too."

She saw his face fall slightly and without thinking, Maria reached out her hand and placed it gently on his wrist. The reaction was violent; he recoiled as if she had hit him and raised both his hands towards her face but then just as quickly he dropped them and took a step back from her.

"Get out now, Maria," he said in a hoarse whisper.

Maria ran. She pushed the door open and heard it slam shut behind her as she bolted down the stairs and flew out the second door and onto the landing. As she tore through the long corridor and down the stairs, she nearly collided straight into Herr Detweiler as he came up the stairs, idly tossing a wine bottle between his hands.

"Wha-?" Max said, "Where are you going?"

"God's will or not, I can't stay here!" Fraulein Maria cried as he watched her wrench open the front door and run across the gravel.

Max watched her flee across the grounds and out the gate before the door gently shut. Glancing up the stairs, he shook his head in bewilderment. It wasn't long until he heard the sounds of feet pounding down the hallway and saw Georg thundering down the staircase looking absolutely furious.

"What happened?" Max asked.

"Nothing!" snapped Georg, continuing to march down the staircase and across the foyer.

Following, Max glanced at his friend as he walked stiffly and silently into his study. Max slowly closed the study door behind him while he was saw Georg pour himself a drink.

"Hmm, nothing you say?" Max said as Georg downed the drink in one large gulp. "I didn't realise 'nothing' required a double scotch."

Inhaling sharply through his nose, Georg rounded on Max. "Do not even start with me, Max, I am not in the mood for games."

"I'm not playing a game, Georg," Max said pleasantly. "But I just saw your little governess, practically on the verge of tears, running out onto the street."

Georg shrugged his shoulders and tried to feign indifference. "So?"

Raising an eyebrow, Max said, "Did you say something to her?"

Silence.

"Did you _do_ something?"

At that, Georg rounded on Max and slowly placed his drink on the desk with a resounding clack.

"What," Georg said scathingly, "Is that supposed to mean?"

"Georg, you bicker with that girl on a daily basis but never have I seen her as upset as I did just now," Max said, not letting the glare on his friend's face cow him. "She has dealt with your temper and impossible ways since being here but I thought, well-" Max scratched his nose awkwardly. "I don't _know_ what I thought. But I believed you at least had some respect for the girl."

Picking up his glass again, Georg refilled it, took a swig and then set the tumbler back down once more. Now that he had calmed slightly, he knew he had overreacted - badly. But seeing her, in the attic, amongst _her_ things – about to touch _her_ dress. It had made him see red. And not because she was in the attic, not really, though that was irritating. It was because she was standing in the middle of memories he wanted to forget. He wanted them to stay in that suffocating old attic. He had tried to lock the door and shove the key in some hiding spot. But Brigitta always seemed to find it. And then, he was always digging it out himself so he could go up there anyway. That room full of lost dreams and broken promises, where he would sit on the hard floor for ages, losing himself in his own grief.

He knew the children went up there, and he turned a blind eye because it was easier than dealing with it. But they never took anything out; they left it as it was. Nothing was to be disturbed.

But along comes this girl who just had to change everything. It had been for the better, and Georg owed her a great deal. And after their rocky start, things had improved. He had come to find her great company, their nightly discussions ever so slowly becoming less about the children and more about what they both liked and disliked. Many thrilling conversations had been had over who was the better poet, author or composer. There had been agreements and disagreements, but it had all been captivating. He had come to enjoy, even treasure, those nightly talks, finding himself looking forward to spending time with her.

Her wholesome charm and sparkling innocence was such a welcome change. It was always entertaining catching her in a lie with the way she bit down on her lush lower lip and awkwardly pushed her hair across her forehead. Teasing her also brought him a great source of enjoyment; he couldn't help but want to see her face flush pink. But all these things, and many others, were the reason why he had become so enraged. He shouldn't notice the way her eyes sparkle when she was excited, or the way the summer sun had brought out the freckles on her cheek and nose. Nor should he notice the way her legs moved as she raced about the gardens playing with the children. He definitely shouldn't be wondering what lay underneath all the new dresses she had sewn for herself. And these thoughts should not be following him into his dreams where he gladly took those dresses off and kissed every single freckle he could find.

No. He should definitely not. It felt like such a betrayal to Agathe. Elsa never did, which always surprised him, but deep down he knew it was because while he did care for Elsa, their marriage would be better compared to a business merger than a real relationship. She was a reasonable choice of partner and their imminent marriage would be about two people who had both loved and lost coming together to share whatever happiness they had left. Not that Georg had ever thought he would be happy again, but he had settled for a complacent state of mind by drowning in champagne and seeing opera after opera with Elsa. This had all changed over the summer though; he had reconnected with his children and had actually become happy – truly happy. He had never thought he would ever feel content in this house ever again, which was why he had avoided it in favour of spending time in Elsa's lavish home in Vienna.

This… _infatuation_ with the governess was sure to pass, he had told himself. But it hadn't, it had gotten worse. It had turned into a maddening obsession. He hadn't expected her to be in the attic, he'd gone there because he'd been feeling guilty and ashamed over his inappropriate thoughts, and had needed to clear his head before joining Elsa and Max in the parlour. Hoping that seeing the memories he'd locked in the attic would shake some sense into him. But it hadn't. Seeing her standing there in that room had made it hard to hold onto his self-control as she continually berated him.

And then she had _touched_ him.

That small touch of her bare hand on his wrist had sent the most intense jolt through his body and his immediate reaction had been to bring that lush mouth to his. To both shut her up and because he so desperately wanted to kiss her. Thank God he had come to his senses. But he had obviously scared her, frightened her – _terrified_ her. He wasn't sure if she thought he'd gone to strangle her or kiss her. He couldn't decide which she'd be less upset over and -

"Georg!"

"What, Max?" he snapped irritably.

His friend shook his head. "It's getting late and you know Franz will lock the doors in an hour. Are you honestly telling me you are going to let her stay out there?"

Growling under his breath, Georg simply pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to sort his head out.

"Fine," he heard Max say. "I will go get our little nun back and apologise to her for your awful behaviour." Max sighed. "Honestly, Georg, they call me a beast but you are far worse than I."

Running a hand through his hair, Georg gave an exasperated sigh. "No, I will go look for her. You stay here and make sure Elsa is entertained."

* * *

After the initial burst of adrenaline had faded, Maria had stopped running. She didn't know exactly where she'd gone, she hadn't really been paying much attention to where she was headed, as all that had mattered was that she had to get away.

It was unclear, both in her head and her heart, whether the Captain had actually been going to hurt her. But all Maria had been able to see was her uncle, lunging after her after he'd had too much to drink. They were memories that she didn't like to be reminded of, especially not by _him_. Glancing around, she could see a stream by the side of the road where a nearby bench stood nestled in some overgrown grass. Walking over to it, she sagged gratefully onto the bench and took off her shoes, letting her feet feel the cool grass.

How stupid had she been? He had told her not to pry but no, she had to think she was the big heroine that needed to rescue everyone – even the bad tempered master of the house. All she had wanted was to grab a few things for the children, so they weren't going up there themselves. Just a few photos, or an old book or toy for the little ones. Maria would give anything to have something of her parents. She should go back and apologise, even though he was clearly still prone to being a bad tempered bea-

"Well, hello there, sweetheart."

Maria turned away from the water and saw three men to her left. One was lounging against a nearby tree while the other two approached her. They didn't look much older than her, but they looked very much like the kind of people Maria didn't want anything to do with. She shivered involuntarily.

"What are you doing out here on your own, Fraulein?" asked one of the men walking towards her.

Maria slipped her feet slowly back into her shoes and moved to stand up, but one of them slid beside her on the bench, wrapping an arm around the top of her shoulders.

"Don't get up because of us, sweetheart," he said, leaning towards her.

Maria could smell the alcohol rolling off his breath. Her initial instinct would have been to push him away, but something about the men told her brain this would be a bad idea. And so for once, she listened to it.

"I was just taking a walk," Maria said, trying not to sound as frightened as she was. "And now I must get back home."

The man holding her gripped her ever so slightly tighter around the shoulders and placed his other hand on the top of her thigh. Maria swallowed as she heard the other man speak.

"Aw, don't go yet, Fraulein."

The hand on her thigh crept lower to move under the skirt of her dress and Maria instantly pushed the man away. She got about a few paces away before another man grabbed her wrist and she kicked out, and was rewarded with a loud yelp as her foot connected with his knee. There were a few thick broken branches lying on the ground and she grabbed one and swung it wildly towards the man that had been sitting near her on the bench.

"Stay away!" Maria shouted.

There was a groan and several curses from the man she had kicked.

"We just want to be friends, sweetheart," said the man, getting up from the bench and walking towards her. "You look like you could do with a friend," he leered, all pleasant pretences dropped.

Maria swung the branch again. "I have plenty of friends, thank you."

"Do ya now?"

"Yes," Maria breathed. She didn't know if it would work but she added, "Captain von Trapp is my friend."

The man's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Captain von Trapp? Well, well, well, sweetheart. I'm sorry but we don't think very much of _your_ Captain."

It was then that she saw it, just peeking out from the lapel of the man's jacket – the black spider. The symbol of Hitler. Panic surged once more in Maria's chest and she went to ram the branch towards the man, but he grabbed it, snapped it in two and simply laughed as he threw it to the ground. Maria tried to step back but the overgrown grass made her trip and fall back. Shuffling backwards she tried to get her footing but the man was towering over her. He went for her and Maria reactively closed her eyes as she brought her arms up to shield her face, but there was nothing except the sound of a loud whack and a muffled groan.

Opening her eyes, she saw the Captain standing there, his back to her and the man that had just been above her was lying on the ground, clutching at his face as blood poured down his nose. The other man that Maria had kicked earlier came towards the Captain and she watched, utterly astounded, as the Captain grabbed the man by both wrists, turned him sharply around so his arms were locked behind his back before he pushed the man back to the ground next to his friend.

"Go," he commanded. "I never want to see either of you here again."

One of them glared and spat at the Captain's feet as he stood. "We were just keeping the lady company."

"Hmm," said the Captain sarcastically, "She clearly seems _thrilled_ to be with you."

Maria turned when she heard rustling behind them and saw the man that had been lounging by the tree, and who had yet to say a word, saunter over to them. He was behind her and the Captain, and she could see he was holding something in his hand but she couldn't make out what it was until the moonlight glinted it off it – it was a pocketknife.

Hurriedly standing up, Maria went to grab the Captain to move him out of the way but the man with the knife got there first. She let out a gasp as she saw the knife slide through the Captain's jacket and sink into his arm. He moved in front of Maria and turned towards the attacker, grabbed the hand holding the knife and kicked the man hard in the chest. Frozen to the spot, Maria watched in horrified fascination as the man tried again to stab at the Captain, but he missed due to being so winded by the blow to the chest. The Captain grabbed him by the scruff of the neck with his uninjured arm and pushed him towards the other two men.

"Leave now!" he ordered.

The men scarpered, each one holding onto the other to try and get away as quickly as possible. The rush of adrenaline that had been coursing through Georg's veins, slowly dwindled and he became painfully aware of the throbbing in his arm and the light-headedness that was suddenly overtaking him. He staggered, clutching at his arm when he felt Fraulein Maria move towards him.

"Captain, you've lost a lot of blood," he heard her say.

He was dimly aware of hearing something rip and then he felt her tying something around his injured bicep. She then took his good arm and place it on her shoulders and they walked in silence back to the villa. Georg tried to concentrate on putting one foot after another, trying his best not to lean too much onto Fraulein Maria.

She hadn't gotten very far, and so it hadn't taken him long to find her. The sight that had greeted him when he had found her had unleashed some unknown rage he hadn't thought he could possibly feel. Seeing that sleazy thug towering over her was something he was sure would haunt him for a long time to come. He shuddered to think what would have happened to her if he hadn't found her sooner.

Maria glanced up at him through her lashes as they walked, his face was pale and his shirt and jacket were covered in blood. She was sure she had gotten some on her dress too, not that she cared – it was ruined anyway from ripping the hem to stop the blood flow. Her heart had finally calmed down, and she was finally able to think a little more clearly now that the fear had ebbed away. With a sigh of relief, they were finally through the gates of the villa and walking up to the large door. Once inside the house, she lead him into his study and made him sit down on the lounge in front of the unlit fire. Hurrying out to the bathroom to grab the emergency first aid kit, she nearly ran once more into Herr Detweiler.

"Good God, what happened to you?" he asked, his face utterly horrified.

Looking down at her dress, Maria saw she did indeed have blood on it, quite a bit.

"The Captain was attacked by some Nazi thugs, I think he will be all right but he bled a fair amount," Maria said quickly.

"I will go fetch some hot water and towels for you," said Herr Detweiler, who marched off in the direction of the kitchen.

Quickly grabbing the supplies from the bathroom, Maria headed back to the study. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and slowly walked towards the Captain. She had never seen a proper fight before. And it was something she never wished to witness ever again. But seeing the Captain move the way he had, had been mesmerising, the sheer strength that lay underneath those finely tailored suits was undeniable. He had picked up that man like he weighed no more than Maria did. She was still mad at him, but he had saved her life. Undeniably so.

Approaching him slowly, she lay out the kit on the large coffee table and turned to face him. "Are you feeling all right, Captain?"

"I have been better, Fraulein," he said shortly. "Being stabbed isn't something I prefer to do in my spare time."

Before she could respond, Herr Detweiler breezed in with a large bowl of hot water and a few towels. He moved over to the drinks cabinet, and poured three glasses of scotch.

"Here," Max said, as Georg took the drink.

Downing it in one go, he let the drink burn his throat. "Is Elsa still awake?" he asked Max.

"Yes, she's in the parlour," Max said. "Do you want me to get her?"

"No," Georg said hastily. "Please, go keep her company, I do not want her to know – at least not right now."

Max tossed his own drink back and passed the third glass to Fraulein Maria. Georg heard her protest but Max was all ready shoving it into her hands and telling her it will help.

"Are you sure, Georg?" Max asked, looking curiously at the governess. "What do you want me to tell her?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Georg said, wincing as he shifted on the lounge. "Tell her I'm indisposed and I will make it up to her tomorrow."

"All right," Max said slowly. "Fraulein Maria, let me know if you need any help at all."

Maria nodded, still holding the drink, and watched him leave, shutting the study door behind him.

"Captain…" Maria said hesitantly as she sat down on the lounge next to him - though taking care to sit only as close as needed.

"What?" he snapped.

"You need to take your jacket and, uh, shirt off," she said, unable to stop her face from going pink. "So I can clean the cut properly."

"It's fine," he bit out, grimacing as his arm throbbed. "I can see a doctor tomorrow morning."

"Captain, it needs to be cleaned properly or else it will get infected," Maria said.

"Fine."

Leaning forward, he shrugged out of the jacket, wincing as he did. The whole top of his arm where the knife had cut him burned. He managed to pull off his tie but as he went to undo the buttons, his arm throbbed and he failed, miserably, with one hand to undo the buttons of his shirt.

Closing his eyes briefly, he sat back and said, "I can't undo them with one hand."

"Oh," Maria said, looking at the drink in her hand.

"Just drink it, Fraulein," Georg said irritably, "It'll make you feel better."

Without another thought, she swallowed it quickly, and then began spluttering. She saw the Captain smirk at her while she clutched at her chest as she coughed. The liquid burned her throat but after the initial shock, she decided it wasn't too bad.

"Hurry up."

She shot him a scowl before she dropped her eyes to his shirt. Maria reached out and undid the buttons, trying her very best not to look at the skin that was slowly being revealed underneath. But it was a losing fight. She knew this. It's no different than if one of the children had hurt themselves, she tried to tell herself. But it was different, it was as different as different could possibly be.

Staring at the ceiling, Georg tried to forget that his governess was currently undressing him. But it was hard to forget. His traitorous brain, that seemed to delight in thinking of nothing but inappropriate thoughts about Fraulein Maria, conjured up the lovely image of her undressing him in a much more desirable situation. And it was so easy to imagine. With the feel of her hands working their way down his shirt, he could picture her so easily-

 _Stop_ , he ordered himself. Deciding that staring at the ceiling was not helping with his wild imagination, he looked down and watched her fingers. But it really wasn't any better. Instead he tried to focus on thinking about Max with nothing but a pink feather boa. He nearly vomited at the thought.

Finally Maria had released all the buttons and then she helped him undo the cuffs as well so he could take the shirt off. The left sleeve was drenched in blood and she tossed the shirt on top of the ruined jacket. Grabbing a small cloth, she wet it in the hot water and then wrung it out carefully. Turning back to face him, she tried to keep calm but her heart pounded in her chest at the sight of her employer naked from the waist up. No matter how many times I pray, Maria thought, I'm never going to forget this. There was a dusting of dark hair over his chest, and she couldn't deny how evidently fit he was. It was clear from the way he had fought that he had strength, but seeing his muscles move underneath his skin was something else entirely. She felt her traitorous face flush with heat again.

Dragging her eyes away from his chest, she placed the cloth on his arm and wiped some of the blood away before she started to clean the wound.

"Just hold still," Maria said. **  
**

"That hurts," the Captain hissed, flinching and moving his arm away.

She went to do it again but he moved his arm away from her once more, forcing her to come closer to him on the lounge so her knee leant again his.

"If you'd hold still it wouldn't hurt as much," Maria retorted and he stayed still as she went to clean it once more.

She placed slightly more pressure than necessary onto the deep cut and the Captain winced, and Maria instantly chided herself for her childlike behaviour. He had rescued her, even if it _was_ his fault in the first place.

"Well if you hadn't have run away," the Captain snapped, "This wouldn't have happened!"

Maria looked up from his arm to glare at him. "If you hadn't frightened me, I wouldn't have run away!"

Georg opened his mouth to respond but closed it immediately, unable to think of anything reasonable to say. It was _her_ fault.

"You shouldn't have gone into the attic," he said haughtily, trying to ignore the sharp pain in his arm.

"You should learn to control your temper!"

"So should you!"

They both stared at each other and an awkward silence fell. Georg felt her continue to gently clean his arm and tried to keep his mind focused on the pain so he couldn't let his thoughts stray - again.

"I didn't mean to frighten you," he said slowly and he fixed his gaze on her once more. "Forgive me."

"I do," Maria said quietly. "I'm sorry for going where I wasn't supposed to. I should not have intruded like that."

Gritting his teeth, Georg tried to stay still as she wiped his arm down once more.

"Now, hold still," she said, grabbing the antiseptic. "This might sting a little."

Maria heard him hiss through his teeth as she applied the ointment on his arm, when she was done she then carefully began to wrap his bicep with a clean bandage. She moved efficiently, but with care, and couldn't help but delight in the feel of his arm under her fingers. I should not be thinking like this, she told herself, I'm going to be a nun. _A nun, a nun, a nun.  
_  
Georg, who had been staring at the empty fireplace, turned his head to watch her as she worked. He had seen those same hands wrap bandages on Friedrich's ankle after a tussle or seen her smooth a plaster on a small cut after Gretl had a misadventure through a rose bush. And he could remember being unreasonably jealous when she had leant down and kissed the cut on Gretl's hand after. A small, ridiculous, bubble of hope emerged that maybe she might kiss his arm better, or maybe give him a kiss on the forehead or – No. Don't even go there, he told himself. Clearly the loss of blood was making him think utterly stupid things – even though he knew full well that these thoughts were not new. She's going to be a nun, he reminded himself. _A nun, a nun, a nun._

As Maria placed the last bandage in place, she said softly, "By the way, thankyou - for saving my life." She swallowed. "I know what kind of men they were and I-"

"You're welcome, Maria," he said without thinking. "Fraulein."

He'd done that twice now. God, help him.

She stood up and smoothed her dress down, which was when Georg finally noticed her ruined dress. It was smeared with grass stains and blood, and the bottom of the dress had been ripped to create the makeshift bandage she had tied around his arm back outside. She was staring at him with such concern in her blue eyes he was momentarily stunned. And there was something else in those wide eyes, she'd never looked at him that way before

Clearing his throat, he said, "Please, get changed and go to bed." He gave her a small smile. "Thank you, for your help. Even though I do not deserve it."

"'Forgive us the wrongs we have done, as we forgive the wrongs that others have done to us,'" Maria quoted, giving the Captain one her stupidly wholesome smiles. "The cut wasn't as bad as it appeared, the knife must not have been that big. I think you'll survive."

* * *

After leaving the Captain in his study, Maria had returned the medical kit back to the bathroom and retreated back to her room. Stepping out of her dress, she held it up and looked at it forlornly. She sighed. It was her favourite one that she had made but it was completely ruined now and so she folded it carefully before placing aside to throw out later.

Stripping the rest of her clothes off, she stepped into the bathroom and into the hot shower she had running. Letting the warm water soak through her skin, she let it wash away the dirt and blood that had managed to cake on her skin. She could still smell the sharp scent of the blood and she watched it as it ran down the drain. Seeing the Captain so hurt had made her chest ache. And hurt because of her. It had been like something from one of Brigitta's fairy tale books, the way he had rescued her. Though, it was true that he's no Prince Charming. Part of her still reeled from the confrontation in the attic, he had just been so _angry_ at her. While she knew he wouldn't hurt her, she still did not understand his strange reaction to her when she had touched his wrist. The look in his eyes had been unreadable, and not just due to the lack of light in the attic. She'd seen anger, disdain, irritation and a multitude of other negative emotions flung her way before. But his eyes had been different, something new and alarming. There was something in him that she simply hadn't seen before.

* * *

 **A/N** So this story is based (heavily) on the wolves scene from Beauty and the Beast (1991) and the subsequent conversation after. And the title, and also some text, are lyrics from the song "Something There". So anything remotely clever belongs to Disney or TSOM, I own nothing.

I was inspired by a scene in Weakheart's lovely story "Feeling It Deep Within" which had a Beauty and the Beast type moment in it. I've always thought the stories were similar - and since Belle (1991) was partly based on JA's portrayal of Maria and then Emma Watson pretty much pays homage to her in the 2017 version during 'Belle' and 'Belle (Reprise)' it made me want to do a TSOM version. It's a little dramatic but that's what was called for. I might continue it but for now it was just a little plot bunny that I needed to feed and pat so it would let me be.

UPDATE: I have decided to do a full mashup of BatB and TSoM :) If you wish to follow that one, it is called _Song As Old As Rhyme._

A thank you to both lemacd and gothicbutterfly95 for their help on this one!


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